The Doppelganger Incident
by AmberMX
Summary: When people died, they went to Tartarus. If these people also happened to be the Lord of Time himself, their death might have unintended side-effects. Throw in a witch, a magician, and Nico di Angelo and things were bound to get interesting.
1. The Magician's Mistake

Should I be writing another multi-chapter fic when I already have an unfinished one awaiting completion? No. Am I gonna do it anyway? Heck yeah. This baby here took me one day from the first draft to completing chapter one so I guess that's gotta be a good omen?

Anyhow! A little information before we begin. To be more precise, warnings. The tags already list canon-typical violence, for this chapter specifically, I would like to issue a **trigger warning regarding food**. Go off reading then, and remember, comments are always highly appreciated!

* * *

Our story begins on Olympus. Or, as it is known to the demigods of the world, as well as a few select mortals: on the 600th floor of the Empire State Building, 20 West 34th Street, 10001 New York, United States of America.

Our story begins during the incident that later came to be known as the Battle of Manhattan. To be more precise, it begins during a moment when Luke Castellan had about two minutes to live.

Kronos was dying. The weak, mortal body he possessed, albeit hardened by the waters of the River Styx, had overpowered him, locked him out and then this disgusting Olympian creature, this mouthy Athena brat, had talked his host into defying him. The cursed Jackson brat himself had handed the fleshling a knife and Kronos, King of the Titans, Master of Time, son of Gaea, knew with absolute certainty what was about to happen.

The half-blood stabbed himself and Kronos screamed. His eyes glowed as his spirit burnt up, burning this mortal prison with him, his scythe melting, and through all of time at once, Kronos screamed, not in terror but in rage, not to be heard by mortal nor Olympian eyes.

The demigod insects huddled around his body's dying remaints and Kronos' spirit was forced out of it, crying and whatnot, a disgusting display of mortal flaws. As the Titan faded, the last traces of his being sneered at them, invisible to their eyes and soon to be gone.

Luke Castellan died and that which was contained within him died as well, to go back into Tartarus, where it had crept from. Of course it did. Everyone knew it. When people died, they went to Tartarus.

If these people also happened to be the Lord of Time himself, their death might have unintended side-effects.

* * *

Will Solace happily whistled a tune as he strolled out of the infirmary. The day had been fairly uneventful, save for the Hermes kid who had somehow managed to get both his hands burnt by what he described as an overly aggressive candle. Will silently decided to lecture the Stoll brothers the next time he saw them. In college or not, the two troublemakers hung around camp more often than he'd thought possible and if anyone had hoped that at some point maturity and responsibility would kick in, that person had obviously never met the twins.

Lost in thought, Will didn't pay attention to his surroundings, almost falling over when someone ran into him. Amber from Cabin Six, Will thought. The camper was clutching their bleeding arm, still in training armour.

'Whoa, slow down there', Will called out. 'Let's get you to the infirmary, shall we?'

The pair hastily hurried back to where the healer had come from. Upon arriving, he quickly rummaged through the supply cabinet, pulling out a bandage and some ambrosia. However, turning around, he found the room empty, with no sign of the hurt teen. Frowning at their irresponsibility, he put the items back into the cabinet before leaving again.

It wasn't until after dinner that the blonde saw the Athena camper again, chatting with their friends near the campfire. He quickly strode over, intent on giving them a hefty lecture on injuries, when he froze dead in his tracks.

Illuminated by the bonfire, their arm was clearly visible. And clearly not injured. No scar, no bandage, not even a scratch that could have hinted at the cut Will had been about to tend to a few hours ago.

Confused and embarrassed, the healer left for the Apollo cabin. Something was off.

* * *

Somewhere else, around the same time, in the shadows of the Hecate cabin, the magician Lou Ellen worriedly observed the pattern of chalk on the stone floor, the runes shifting, forming new lines and signs. Signs that Lou Ellen did not like. Very much not. In fact, they were quite worrisome. Concerned, she started murmuring the spell again. Better make sure she was right before she went alarming everyone about her findings…

* * *

The sun was rising over Camp Half-Blood, shining its light over the cabins and the forest, reflecting off windows, off the fountains and off the metal roof on top of Cabin Nine. Most campers were either asleep or just slowly waking up, but one Malcolm Pace was just returning from his morning run. He might not look like a sportsman, but he had found it to be very relaxing, keeping his head clear. As an added bonus, his path led him past the camp's strawberry fields, making for an unofficial snack before breakfast.

The plantages were a distinct landmark and one of the few sources of income for the camp administration, covering what little expenses they had. Besides that, they also were delicious, although in Mr D's presence, one occasionally happened upon ones that tasted of wine or diet coke rather than of fruit.

This very morning, a happily grinning Malcolm stopped by the side of the track to reach under the fence, plucking a handful of strawberries. The fields were ripe with them, thanks to an undisturbed summer with neither thunderstorms nor flash floods. The demigod sent a sarcastic prayer of gratitude to the gods before tasting his harvest. Sweet, juicy and mouldy.

Mouldy?!

Disgust and shock on his face, he spit it out before daring to look down. The handful of fruits he had plucked just seconds ago had changed into various states of decay, unripeness, a particularly delicious-looking one turning into seeds in front of his eyes while next to it, another berry rapidly aged before rotting away between his fingers.

* * *

The shrines of Camp Half-Blood were the pride of their constructors, namely Jason Grace and several members of Cabin Six as well as engineers of the Twelfth Legion. Their construction had begun shortly after the end of the second Gigantomachy, the new Pontifex keeping his promise, and the combination of Roman precision work and Greek ingenuity made for several truly impressive sights, decorating the landscape around the camp, streets in New Rome or standing next to temples of Camp Jupiter.

And now, several of them were in states they were most certainly not supposed to be in. Demigods, upon hurrying past them, halted in their tracks and whispered to each other, pointing and staring, at the roof of the shrine of Eos, finished only last month, that was now but a skeleton of bare wood. Concerned looks were given the shrine of Eileithyia, usually sporting walls covered in finest birchwood boards, now a rotting mess of mouldy wood, seemingly having aged several centuries in the span of just one afternoon.

The other shrines weren't off much better, some having reverted to mere construction sites, while others looked like they hadn't been maintained forever, colours fading, roofs falling apart and wood decomposing.

* * *

The back room of Cabin 20 was in uproar. Senior cabin members were whispering to each other, re-arranging magical tools or drawing runes. Above all presided Lou Ellen, giving out directions left, right, and centre as her brothers and sisters slowly formed a circle around the signs on the floor. Hecate's children may be gifted with magic or the ability to bend the mist, but few were powerful enough to earn the title of 'magician'.

Lou Ellen was one of maybe half a dozen alive magicians and she was going to find out what the fuck was going on. Yet even she was cautious. Time and magic were things that usually were to be kept away from each other and if her theory was right… she refused to consider it, focusing instead of channelling the powers of her siblings into her spellwork.

The runes began to glow, the smell of burnt herbs filling the room. Their test subject—an apple—lay in the circle, unimpressed and only vaguely alive. Apart from the sound of half a dozen people breathing, the room was surprisingly quiet.

The cabin head took a deep breath, wiping her colourful hair out of her forehead, before releasing the pent up magic into the circle.

Two things happened at once.

The apple turned old and rotten faster than the blink of an eye. It was an interesting outcome and the one Lou Ellen had feared, but it went largely unnoticed, due to the second event happening shortly therafter, as the markings around the circle flashed and sent out a huge shockwave, rendering everyone in the cabin unconscious.

* * *

In the Big House, the centaur Chiron was attempting to contact an old friend via Iris Message when the shockwave hit, sweeping him off his hooves, throwing his water fountain across the room and shattering the windows before burying him under dozens of files and folders.

Inside Bunker Nine, a very confused Nyssa stared at the freshly forged but already rusty dagger in her hand as the ground shook, toppling her anvil and sending her falling in one direction and the dagger in the other as Hephaestus campers took cover from flying tools and exploding automatons.

Frustrated screams could be hear from the Aphrodite cabin as every make-up inside expired at the very same moment, before turning into panicked screams as mirrors melted and posters of pop stars aged like a live reenactment of Dorian Gray.

All over the camp, campers stumbled, fell, were hit by things, or worse. Clovis from Hypnos woke up screaming from a dream as one of his younger brother fell onto his face after aging seventy years in the span of ten seconds and in the Arts & Crafts pavillon, a shocked daughter of Apollo stared at a three years old version of Clarisse la Rue wriggling her way out of an oversized battle armour.

* * *

Nico woke up, feeling disoriented. The first thing he noticed was that he lay sprawled out over the ground of the Hades cabin, his joints aching as he hugged the floorboards. The second thing he noticed was that his head was thrumming like mad, sending waves of pain running through his skull.

The third thing he noticed was the figure rummaging through his drawers.

As he tried to focus and see through the blur in front of his eyes, more details came into view. The person had a scrawny build, was dressed black—tasteful and not unlike him, he couldn't help but notice—they had black hair, about the same length as his, and a pair of daggers hung from their belt. Groaning in pain against his will, he tried to get up, causing the person to freeze and turn around.

'Hello, traitor', said Nico di Angelo, before raising a combat boot-wearing foot above Nico's head and knocking him out cold with a determined kick. The last thing Nico noticed before his vision went black was the silver pendant the shape of a scythe dangling around the other Nico's neck.


	2. A Renegade Reunion

Nico di Angelo ran. So far, nothing out of the ordinary. He was used to it, he wasn't even out of breath, even though he had been running since he had bolted from the cabin he had woken up in a few minutes ago, after taking out his other self and fleeing the camp whose border he was now approaching. Just a few hundred more yards to go.

He had not the faintest idea what was going on. One moment, he'd been in one of his regular hideouts, an old bomb shelter beneath the sewers of a godforsaken place somewhere up the East Coast, the next, he'd opened his eyes to black walls and a dark, wooden floor, in a cabin in the middle of the enemy camp. He hadn't had time to find out by which means they had captured him when he had noticed his other self on the floor next to him. Wearing a camp shirt.

Whoever the fuck this new him was, he evidently was a bloody traitor. He'd quickly searched the other's belongings for anything useful, knocked him out and taken his sword before fleeing the place.

Now panting, he came to a halt atop the hill overlooking the camp. The wretched pine stood a few hundred feet to his right, but the barrier didn't stop him as he tentatively set a foot across the line. Breathing a sigh of relief, he stepped past the boundary, melting into the shadows and disappearing.

He hadn't been in the shadows for more than a few seconds when the full understanding of what was happening hit him. After the war, he had become quite familiar with magic, unable as he was to use it, and messing with it always left traces. These shadows felt foreign, and if that wasn't enough of a giveaway, then the gaps and rifts he could feel in them were, little cracks that had been torn into the dark realm, fragments of realities seeping through and almost pulling him off course.

As he stumbled out of the darkness again, collapsing onto the concrete, the importance of what he had just realised dawned on him.

Nico di Angelo, son of Hades, trusted lieutenant of Kronos, leader of the Titan Army, slayer of Gods and Demigods alike, was, quite possibly, the last renegade against the Olympians.

* * *

The rec room was crowded and filled with chatter. While this was far from unusual during counsellor meetings, the mood was unusually broody, and instead of pranking each other or joking, people whispered of the havoc wreaked on their cabins.

'Solace said they had to get diapers for one of his sisters—'

'Yes but did you see Clovis? They had to get him to the infirmary because one of his brothers fell on his face like some retiree—'

'Malcolm told me half the strawberries are rotten and they haven't even started harvesting!'

'SILENCE!', Chiron's voice shut the room up at once.

'Thank you all for coming. Now, as you are well aware…'

* * *

New York was a dumpster, Nico di Angelo thought. A big, brilliant, shining city, home to money, power and Gods, but underneath it, in the back alleys, the basements, the places only certain people knew, it remained a dumpster. And somewhere in this mess, sometimes literally in a dumpster, there were demigods. Not the bootlicking kind, but people who had fought against the Olympians, still did, no matter whether their master was dead or not. People like him.

That was, if this universe was anything like his. He had spent the last few hours shadow-travelling across the city, to not avail. The safehouse on West 47th Street didn't seem to exist and the armaments depot on 7th Avenue had been empty and smelled like dead satyr. This was the fifth renegade shelter he had sought out, the first one he had ever been given refuge in after the lost war: a basement, seemingly bricked up, but in reality hidden behind the mist.

Slowly, he traced the hidden imprint on the wall to open the door and stepped inside, only to be met with a blade against his throat and a hand over his eyes.

'Don't fucking move or I swear you're dead, di Angelo.'

Bingo.

'Blair, isn't it?', Nico snarled. 'Put that knife away, we all know you can't hurt a fly. This is Ethan's turf, right? Where is he?' He reached up and pulled the other demigod's hand away to take in the sight of the room. 'Livy', he nodded at the woman training her crossbow at him, 'and who do we have here! Didn't think you could stand bunking with Nakamura, Torrington.'

He hadn't seen Alabaster Torrington for a few months. The witcher had been one of the most vengeful soldiers of Kronos' army and if any, he had gotten worse after the better part of the forces had surrendered to the Olympians.

A sharp pain in his cheek brought him back to reality and he realised that the other man had slapped him.

'Ethan is dead, you know that as well as I', the son of Hecate growled. 'How did you find this place anyway? And did you really think you could just stroll in here without your precious camper friends?'

The smug grin disappeared from Nico's face. 'They're not my friends.' He shook off the hand of the teenager behind him and reached into the collar of his shirt. 'This ring any bells?'

In his hand, the scythe pendant of Kronos' army reflected the light.

* * *

'We're not entirely sure what happened.'

Lou Ellen was the head of the Hecate cabin, and as such, one of the camp's highest authorities on magic and at that very moment, the entire room was listening to her. Both the oracle, Rachel Dare, and the Apollo cabin's most talented seers had denied any divine involvement, and although nobody had been able to question Mr D for confirmation, it seemed that this matter was not of godly nature.

Which meant that Lou Ellen was now being pressed for answers.

'As some of you might have noticed, we have experienced some… anomalies recently', the magician continued. 'Of course, we have tried to gather some understanding of what's happening. The ways of magic are unclear and ambiguous, but we believe it has to do with time.'

'During the war before the last war, we fought against the Titans.' And awkward silence filled the room as many demigods tried to avoid each other's eyes, remembering that many of them had fought not against, but with the titans.

'Kronos himself was the Lord of Time, before the Olympians, and when he died…', she paused for a moment. 'I could feel it. I think everyone with just an ounce of magic talent could. In light of recent events, that might give us a clue as to what is happening.'

Jake Mason from Hephaestus—with Leo Valdez out of camp and his sister Nyssa currently aged beyond belief, he was once again in charge of his cabin—cleared his throat, an incredulous expression on his face. 'Are you saying that because Kronos bit the dust, time is going haywire?'

'No', Lou stated firmly. 'But the Hecate cabin has conducted some experiments, and we have found the fabric of time weakened, torn… potentially, even other realities might be seeping into ours. A little push would be enough to cause a catastrophe.'

* * *

Where in the name of Kronos did the di Angelo scum get the Scythe pendant? The question raced through Alabaster's thoughts, making his head spin. Upon the death of its owner, it should have fallen to ashes, it shouldn't be possible for the Hades offspring to have one, and yet…

'This morning', the brat spoke up again. 'Anything… magical happened?'

'You tell me', the witcher shot back.

The punk shrugged. 'Alright. I'll tell you.' He flopped down onto the couch, Livy's weapon still aiming at his head. 'Bit of a long story though… last night, I was hiding out in the central square shelter, you know the one, Boston sewers', he was not supposed to know this, fuck, that was another refuge compromised, 'and this morning, I ran from the camp after knocking out someone who very much seemed to be me…', the man relaxed the longer he kept talking, seemingly unafraid of the renegades who outnumbered him.

'So, let me get this straight', Alabaster repeated. 'We are supposed to believe that you are one of us, from another reality, who came here because he was magically taken from his reality and placed here?' He snorted sarcastically. 'Why are we even wasting our time on this satyr feces?' Magic was creeping over his skin and circling his finger tips, ready to blast the other man into dust.

'Oh, I can prove it', and suddenly, di Angelo's voice was scarily cold. 'What do you want me to tell you? Every single safehouse in this city? The parole you used when you set up shelter here?' He stepped up into Alabaster's space. 'Need I remind you of Benton's death? You thought nobody saw you, but you sat on the roof the entire night, crying.' One step closer. 'That skirmish in Berkeley, how's the leg? Scarred?' And another step. 'Or your decision to go searching for Rodriguez, didn't go so well? Where I come from, you still have nightmares about that.' And even closer. 'Did you do Portland, too? The Alabaster I know almost died if it hadn't been for a camp fool who thought his naiveté mercy.'

The witch's thoughts tumbled across each other while di Angelo told him things he couldn't know. Nobody who hadn't been there, after the war, when the Titan army fled, died or hid, could know these things.

The Hades brat stepped back, pointedly adjusting the Scythe around his neck. 'What happened to the depot on 7th Ave, anyway? Last time I was there, Nington and Fewall and their useless pet Empousa were hiding out there.'

'Raided', Alabaster answered automatically. He sighed and the sparks in his fist died down, then motioned for the other two to lower their weapons. 'One of the satyrs smelled them and the Ares woman took them out, single-handedly.'

'This morning. There was something.' The something had waken him up, strong enough to make all his nerves tingle. 'It's magic, that I can say, but something more.' He eyed the son of Hades suspiciously. 'I've felt it before. When He died. Time stopped for a moment.'

'Whatever they're doing, they've messed with magic and time.'

* * *

They materialised right outside the camp's borders. Di Angelo—Alabaster still had trouble believing the punk—had, after some persuasion and scheming, teleported them all the way from New York in one go, after rounding up a few more comrades. Alabaster himself had objected to the entire plan, but the others hadn't cared, not with the opportunity to get into Camp Half-Blood while it was unprotected, and the witch was not one to leave his friends on their own, so he had reluctantly agreed to their plan. If di Angelo was right and if his instincts were right about what was going on, this was the chance they had been waiting for all along.

Nevertheless, if this turned out to be a trap, he would make sure di Angelo died a painful death.

Carefully, they approached the border. The fleece that Luke had let the Olympians have, for reasons beyond Alabaster's understanding, was nowhere to be seen, and his excitement spiked when he set foot over the invisible line and was met with no resistance. Hurriedly, the others followed, making their way across the hill and into camp. The sight of the destruction that had hit the camp was more satisfying than Alabaster had imagined, even after hearing di Angelo's description.

'To the Big House', the punk suggested, and shrugging, the witch agreed. It was an easily defendable position, and if their plan was to work, they might have to take advantage of that. Alabaster slowed down, falling behind the others and nervously surveying their surroundings. He didn't fail to notice di Angelo mimicking his motion.

'Ethan', he simply said, quietly enough for nobody to hear but di Angelo. 'You said… in your time, he is still alive?'

Di Angelo didn't respond for a moment. 'Yeah', he finally answered. 'Why?'


	3. Recon, Retcons & Resurrections

Welcome back, dialogue, my old nemesis. Not my strong suit for sure. Eitherhow, another chapter done, three to go. Fortunately, I have the last chapter already done and the remaining two partially written. Kudos and comments much appreciated.

* * *

Nico had never wondered what centaurs might look like after a sleepless night. In fact, he had never paid much thought to how centaurs slept. Looking at Chiron, however, it was blatantly obvious the camp director had been awake all night.

The emergency meeting was being held in the arena, after parts of the Big House had started to become unstable overnight. What was left of the council had gathered: Will Solace, one leg in a cast after a pillar on the porch had decided to violently revert into a tree; Lou Ellen, mostly unharmed; Sherman Yang from Ares, counsellor-by-default thanks to Clarisse's condition; and Nico di Angelo, a throbbing headache and sleep-deprived after taking on most of the night's patrol duties.

'…no casualties so far, fortunately', Chiron was saying and a sigh of relief could be heard from the group. 'So far, the Zeus and Hera cabins seem to be withstanding the incidents and I would ask all of you to urge your siblings to take shelter there. Unfortunately, it appears that the Hecate and Apollo cabins are unable to give us any more information about this issue.'

'That's not everything', Yang added. 'I sent Ellis to check the perimeter an hour ago. He says the fleece is gone and someone's gotten in. Says he couldn't see them very well, but, well, he said… he said they came like he does', he nodded at Nico. 'Through the shadows. Headed towards the Big House. I'm not sayi—'

'That'll be enough', Chiron interrupted him. 'We've been told already, and I think you just confirmed it, that there is a… doppelganger on the loose.' He wiped his hair, now thin and grey, out of his wrinkled forehead. 'I suggest Nico and Lou be sent to investigate this while we secure our campers in the cabins. Alright?'

Begrudgingly, the other campers agreed, and the meeting disbanded.

* * *

Nico di Angelo was thrilled. Twenty hours ago, he had woken up to find himself out of place, alone and without allies, and now he was closer than ever before to succeeding: atop Half-Blood Hill, with the camp defenceless, his people by his side and the resurrection of Lu—of Kronos within reach. He allowed himself a satisfied grin. Oh, convincing this world's rogue demigods to trust him had been more challenging than he had expected, different as their world was from his, but here they were.

He let his thoughts wander as he glanced at Alabaster. The witch was different than he remembered him, more bitter, even more vengeful. It likely had to do with this reality's Ethan dead, he mused. Not that it mattered, really.

Whatever the other man was doing, it was wreaking havoc on the camp. Since they had made their way in, since Alabaster had begun laying down spells and ripping apart the Mist that hid the camp, funnelling magic into what he had, upon Nico's inquiry, described as tears in time and reality, more and more of the camp had fallen apart in front of their eyes. Overwhelmed at first, then entertained, the renegade had watched trees turning into saplings, ancient buildings crumbling and cabins consumed by ivy and weeds.

This was his triumph. After years of exile, of guerilla tactics, of being on the run and learning to use whatever was at hand to fight and to survive, this was it.

* * *

'What are they doing?', Nico whispered and Lou unceremoniously put a hand over his mouth. They were hiding behind a bunch of logs near the Big House—logs that had been perfectly fine trees before yesterday—and were watching Nico's Alter Ego stand guard while someone who looked suspiciously like Alabaster Torrington was casting spells and working magic that made Lou's hairs stand on end. She had only briefly met her infamous half-brother before, having come to camp shortly before he defected to join the Titan army, but whatever he was doing, it set off every single alarm bell, all of her magical senses screaming inside her head.

Magic was being cannibalised before their eyes and she felt like she could almost hear time and reality tearing every time the man channelled another spell into his portal.

'Do we have a plan or something?' Nico hissed next to her.

Lou quietly shook her head.

'Look, I gotta talk to… to this other me, okay? If he's anything like me, I can talk him out of this—', the magician wanted to protest but Nico didn't let her, 'I know this look, how he's—I was like that years ago, I can help him.'

Before Lou could even begin to tell him how utterly ridiculous his idea was, the other demigod had abandoned their cover and started running towards the Big House.

* * *

What was di Angelo thinking, seriously? Lou had thought that by now she would be accustomed to his way of thinking, but once again, his recklessness had caught her off guard. That guy was gonna be the death of her, probably.

Right now, she was hurrying through the fringes of the forest behind the Big House, safely out of sight in case someone was coming to where they had been hiding out. Whether Nico thought he could actually talk his doppelganger into surrender or not, someone had to take care of the damage the duo was currently causing to the reality around camp, and the only magic trick di Angelo was capable of was being more annoying than should be humanly possible.

The camp needed a magician and Lou Ellen was just the woman for that.

She was now getting to the other side of the house. Nearing the corner, she stopped and readied her daggers as she heard someone approaching. Running, by the sound of it. Pressed against the wall, blades in her hands, she tried to recall Clarisse's combat training, deciding to spend more time in the arena once this would be over and done with. The person running was now almost there, she took a deep breath, exhaled, dashed around the corner and—

'Lou!'

—almost ended up stabbing Nico, yelping in surprise and dropping her weapons before catching her breath. Nico picked up the knives and handed them back to her before sheathing his trademark Stygian Iron sword.

'We should get out of sight', he suggested, and instead of waiting for an answer led her away from the house and into the bushes.

'What's happened?', the magician inquired.

Her friend grimaced. 'I tried. Wherever he came from, he's good, I had to run or he would've gotten me.' He looked down. 'I don't think persuasion is going to work. He's obsessed.' He seemed too exhausted to even sound disappointed. Lou tactfully decided to not point out that she had said so.

'Alright, new strategy', she decided. 'You heard Chiron, he can't help us, not with everyone hiding out. You try to keep him occupied, I take care of the portal. Use your powers or whatever, throw bones at him—'

'He is me', Nico reminded her. 'He's got the same powers, he can just stall whatever I do.'

She swallowed hard. 'Doesn't matter, just buy us time, okay? And Nico', she struggled to say it, 'you might have to kill his witcher.'

He got up. 'I know.'

The magician in tow, he approached the house again, the hem of his black shirt being lifted by the wind briefly to reveal a particularly nasty scar on his back.

Lou froze. Nico hadn't been wearing a black shirt ten minutes ago. And he didn't have a scar in that spot.

'You coming or what', her partner hissed before turning around and seeing the look on her face.

'Oh', he remarked. 'You figured it out.'

And with that, Nico di Angelo brought the hilt of Nico's sword down on her head, rendering her unconscious.

* * *

The first thing Lou noticed was that her head hurt. Her second discovery was that she felt dizzy.

The third thing she noticed was that she was tied up. She kept her eyes shut, hoping to appear still knocked out, and tried to wiggle her hands a little to test out the bonds.

'It's pointless, don't bother', the all too familiar voice of Nico di Angelo stated, somewhere to her right. Slowly, Lou opened her eyes.

Oh great. He was tied up as well. So much for his fearless attempt to save them.

Not too far from them, the other Nico di Angelo—still carrying Nico's sword, but now wearing his armour and, presumably, his Scythe insignia again—stood next to Alabaster, observing the witcher's work. This close, Lou almost couldn't look at it, the ill effects of the portal the two were opening chilling her bones.

'So… how come…?' she asked, eyes wandering between the two Nicos.

_Her_ Nico grimaced. 'What do you think? He had me disarmed faster than you could spell "Cerberus", took my sword and my necklace and went looking for you. Wherever he came from, he's good.'

Lou tried to muster a smile. 'Yeah, he said that too when he pretended he was you. Down to the word.'

Nico shrugged, as much as that was possible in his state. 'We're the same, what do you expect?'

'So', Lou sobered up, 'what now? I'm sure I can get out of these', motioning at their bound limbs, 'I just need a little time.' She frowned. 'Where'd they get them, anyway?'

'Your brother', Nico nodded at Alabaster. 'Didn't know you lot can conjure up stuff.'

'I can't', she answered. 'Most of us have different powers.'

'Right. So, plan?'

* * *

'It's ready', Alabaster interrupted the silence, his voice distanced but audibly biting back on excitement, drowning out the chatter of their prisoners. 'The portal is ready.'

Nico stepped forward. 'So am I.' He looked back down at their prisoners. 'In a few moments, you'll wish you had never fought me. You'll find Lord Kronos is far less forgiving than I am.'

He could feel the portal now, a draught caressing his skin, trying to pull him in. Through it, he could see a blurry vision, that awful scene in the throne room of Olympus, the one he still had nightmares about. Of course, in this world, it was slightly different—he wasn't there, for instance. Nevertheless, even through the magic barrier, he could feel the presence of his master.

Alabaster was looking at him, silently asking for confirmation, a last spell glowing around his fingertips.

He nodded and the portal came to life. The air filled with an all but palpable amount of power, violence and rage and even with no inclination towards magic whatsoever, Nico could feel time rip open as the Titan's essence surrounded them. It was a feeling all too familiar to anyone who had served with the Titans.

'Lord Kronos', he breathed, 'my lord and master, I humbly offer you my body as a vessel, to live again and conquer this world once more.'

'You have to stop this', behind them, his other self was yelling again, still pleading with him to give up, even more pathetic than when he had come running at them earlier, and angrily, he turned around, his feelings clearly written onto his face.

He froze as he heard Kronos' laughter behind him, forced to his knees as the Titan's consciousness descended upon his own, the strange presence exploring his mind, and for the first time, Kronos spoke.

'Weak.'

He let go of Nico's mind and the demigod's world fell to pieces.


	4. Missing Memories & Magical Mishaps

'You. Have. No. Idea.'

Every single word out of Nico di Angelo's mouth was laced with venom and contempt.

'No. Idea.'

He was painfully aware of the presence of Kronos behind him, bodiless but present. This was supposed to be his moment of victory, yet here he was, their prisoners making a fool out of him in front of his master.

'Do you even understand?', he hissed at his other self. 'My entire life, I've been left alone. Betrayed by everyone. And so have you. Percy?', he spat the name out like a bitter taste. 'He lied to me. To us. He let Bianca die. My father used me, my friends left me, my saviours took my sister from me.'

His features were distorted with pain as he spoke. 'Minos left me to die, the Olympians left me to go insane. Luke found me. He was there for me. He trusted me. I could rely on him and he on me, he gave me a chance and I took it. Why didn't you?'

The other Nico was pointlessly struggling against his bounds. 'This is Kronos, not Luke! Do you think he cares for you the way Luke did? He isn't going to be the same! If you think he isn't going to stab your back—'

'Lies!', Nico screamed. 'You weren't there, you picked the side that abandoned you! I fought with people who took care of me!' The refusal of the other one to see the truth pained him. 'Join me! You could be like me, not at the beck and call of the Olympians any more! What have they ever done for you? What could I do for us?'

'Enough', Kronos' voice boomed from behind him and he spun around to face the portal.

'Lord Kronos, I—'

'This one is worthless. I have seen his mind, his memories, his… desires.' Without a body, the titan couldn't smile, but he was audibly amused. 'Do you really think Luke ever returned your feelings, demigod? I rule time! I know your past as well as his, your future, your potential! You were but a tool, a foolish, naive warrior. I have no use for you.'

Nico wanted to scream, protest, but his tongue refused to serve him as the sheer impact of Kronos' mockery hit him, amplified by the pressure of his master's mind pushing down on him.

Next to them, Alabaster stepped forward and knelt down.

'Lord Kronos, with all due respect, may I offer myself to your services?' He acted as cold as it had been before, but through the layers of shock and pain clouding his sense, Nico could hear the tinge of eagerness in the other man's voice.

'Ah, the witcher', the titan sounded pleased, 'a loyal follower! Have you been carrying on the fight, son of magic?'

'Yes, mylord', Alabaster breathed. 'You know what I am capable of… your highness.'

'Yes… you will be my first step to setting this world on fire', the titan decided. 'And then, you will kill these deplorable weaklings.'

The portal tore open and Alabaster's body went rigid, glowing as Kronos began to take over. With no immortality to protect his substance, he was going to burn up, a smoking corpse possessed by the titan's will.

Nico blinked.

It wasn't fair.

This had been supposed to be his triumph, his victory.

'If you think he isn't going to stab your back', his other self's words echoed in his mind. 'You were a tool', Kronos seemed to taunt him. Anger pooled in his stomach as he stood up. Betrayed, again.

Nico di Angelo screamed in frustration, took aim, and ran his sword straight through the chest of the person that used to be Alabaster Torrington.

* * *

Headaches? Being tied up? Narrowly avoided end of the world? These things had little in common, except for being things Nico was not a fan of. Right now, he was groggily blinking against the setting sun, trying to figure out his where, when, why and whether any important appendages were missing.

'Oh hi, you're awake.'

His arms and legs all seemed to be existent still, and apparently, so was Lou Ellen. As he started feeling the rest of his body again, Nico realised that the magician was behind him, releasing the rope around his hands.

'What', he stammered, 'where', it was really quite embarrassing, he thought, while trying to achieve proper sentences despite his lips refusing cooperation. Lou shushed him, cutting the last of his ties, and he leant back against her, waiting for the world to stop moving around him.

'It's over, if that's what you were asking', she helpfully supplied, as if he hadn't been able to tell so from the distinct lack of magical portals and people who were trying to kill them.

'Where', his mouth had agreed to surrender control to his brain again, 'the others, I mean—'

The magician cocked her head. 'I think they're… well, destroyed. He—Alabaster, he was kind of dissolving when I woke up and you, I mean, other you, was already gone. Your sword's over there, by the way.'

Nico tried to stand up and promptly stumbled back, Lou barely catching him.

'So', he panted, 'we did it?'

'We did it', she confirmed.

* * *

Camp Half-Blood was slowly returning to normal as they walked down the hill and towards the cabins. As the sun was setting—Lou had suggested that the day might have lost a few hours, what with all the time-magic-reality mess involved, and Nico had drowned out her explanations and instead watched as the damage undid itself. The Big House had already been back to its normal condition by the time he had felt recovered enough to walk, and the further they went, the more the camp started to resemble its old self again.

'How'd you get yourself untied, anyway?', Nico inquired.

'Huh? Oh, the ropes?' The daughter of Hecate shrugged. 'They're magical. I do magic. I told you I'd just need some time and I could get them off.'

They passed the Arts & Crafts building, which was currently in the process of shedding rotten wood and, more or less, spawning new pillars; the volleyball courts, previously a mess of dirt and seeds, were growing new grass and from afar, Nico could see the arena rise out of the ruins of its previously collapsed and ivy-covered incarnation.

'I'd have to do a few calculations', Lou casually blabbered next to him, 'but I think everything will return to the state it was in before all of this happened.' She frowned. 'Almost everything, anyway. Cause and effect, it gets messy when you bring magic into it. But for the most part, all of this has never happened. Will never have happened.'

'I remember it, though', Nico argued. 'What about the others, will they?'

'Good question', the magician admitted. 'To be honest, I don't know. Some might not remember at all, some will probably remember everything, the rest of them… well, they'll probably remember something. Fragments. Like a dream, or, something you know you should think of but it keeps slipping your mind.'

'Yeah.'

'I gotta run some experiments later, see if time is intact again. Maybe I can work some magic to seal the leftover cracks.'

'Uhh', Nico wasn't sure but that sounded dangerous, 'maybe you shouldn't. Y'know, just… leave it alone. No more messing with reality and all that.'

* * *

'Alright, what's next on the agenda?'

Zeus' voice was already thunderous when the god was in a good mood, but when he was annoyed, it was over the top. And right now, the council was blabbering and not paying any attention at all. Apollo was boasting to Artemis about his latest conquests, Ares had picked a fight with Hephaestus and Poseidon was playing Battleships with Athena.

'ORDER!', Zeus roared, and this time, the room fell silent. Athena slipped the playboard into her robes and Ares hastily tried to hide a spear behind his back. The King of Olympus shot him an angry glare loaded with a few thousand amps of electricity.

'Now, if I may have your attention', he glanced at the list in front of him, 'I think we still have some reports to hear.'

He leaned back as the other Olympians dutifully told about their respective tasks, suspiciously eyeing Hades and Poseidon, as always. And as always, Poseidon and Hades eyed him back, no less mistrusting. Nothing wrong with paranoia. Treason did run in the family.

'Dionysus!', he barked when the room fell silent. 'As you can see, we are eagerly waiting for you to brief us on your continued success managing Camp Half-Blood.' It would have been an understatement to say that his words were dripping sarcasm.

The god of wine and partying startled, mumbling some excuse about a long night and hangovers. It wasn't often that he got to visit Olympus and when he did, he made sure to live up to his reputation.

'Camp?' he grumbled. 'Well. I'm sure they're just fine, slaying whatever needs to be slain… I have to say, it's gotten a lot calmer without everyone's favourite Perry Johnson around', he pretended not to notice Poseidon's irritated stare. 'Would that be all?'

* * *

Nico woke up in the middle of the night to the sound of someone knocking on the door of the Hades cabin. Groaning, he pulled the sheets over his head, trying to ignore the person mistreating his door, before casting the covers aside and getting up, intent on making whoever woke him up regret doing so. However, when he opened the door, he found himself staring into the rain, with nobody in sight.

Groggily, he slammed it shut again, already missing the warmth of his blanket, and turned to head back to bed.

Only to come face to face with… himself. Out of instinct, he reached for his sword before remembering that he was wearing nothing but pyjama pants. Either way, he found a sword pointed at his throat less than a second later.

'You're not dead', he managed to say.

The other Nico snorted. 'Brilliant observation.' He gripped his sword tighter. 'Kronos is dead.'

'Yes', Nico confirmed.

'And I'm stranded here with no way back.'

'Also yes.'

The other him was shaking. 'I was so close—_so close!_—and you just had to go and ruin it all, with your useless little witch friend! You made me look like an idiot, you—you made me', he was properly rambling now, 'it's your fault is what I'm saying!'

'So what?', Nico shot back. 'What are you gonna do, kill me?' He spread his arms, exposing his bare chest. 'Go on, but tell you what? You can't, or you would have already back there.' The tip of the blade was inches from his skin and for all his provocative words, he was far more scared than he let show. 'Can you do that? Look at me and try, then.'

The other man's face showed a variety of emotions as Nico waited, heart racing. Anger, hatred, determination and misery flashed over his other self's features before he let out a frustrated groan and tossed his sword aside.

'Fuck you', he spat, visibly shaking with rage as tears began running down his pale cheeks. 'Fuck you running around with my face like that, you know I fucking can't, just—ugh!'

'What are you here for?', Nico calmly asked, slowly regaining his composure now that he wasn't risking getting sliced open any second. The other Nico didn't respond, slumping against the wall, his thin frame shaken by sobs.

'Nico', it was odd, addressing someone else by his own name, even though (or maybe even more so) if that person looked like him, spoke like him, thought like him. He squatted down in front of the other him, hesitantly reaching out. 'Nico. Talk to me.'

'Leave me alone', was the growled response as the second di Angelo swatted away Nico's hand. 'You know nothing.' He pushed himself back up. 'You got all this', a vague motion towards the interior of the cabin, 'your, your _friends_, your _camp_, your _gods_', every word was thrown at Nico with audible contempt behind it, 'you've got your happy, little life slaving away your our parents… what do I have?'

'Me', Nico replied. 'If I'm such a naive lackey, then why bother try talking me into joining forces with you, back there? Why let me live?'

'I don't know!' The other's despair was impossible to miss.

'What do you want?'

'Don't know either!'

One of the two di Angelos took a deep breath. The other did, too. One of them in pyjama pants, the other in street wear, the eyed each other.

'You could stay', Nico suggested, finally.

'Have you lost it?', the other incredulously asked.

'I mean it. You could. I can help you', Nico insisted.

'What, and watch you be', his other version seemed to struggle and the last words came out as a whisper, 'be everything I can't be?' He failed miserably at pretending to laugh. 'I don't need you. I don't need anyone.'

Nico cracked a sad smile. 'Yeah, I remember when I thought that. Look, if you'd just let me—'

Apparently, he'd said something wrong, because the next moment, he was pinned against the wall, the other one's face almost touching his own, face showcasing a struggle of emotions, an elbow uncomfortably digging into his ribcage.

'Back off', he coldly said. 'Whatever you're going to do, you won't get away with—'

He shut up when the second Nico closed the distance between their faces and pressed their lips together.


	5. The Doppelganger Discourse

**A/N:** I seriously hate dialogue. Only writing poetry or manuals from now on. About 70% of this chapter was done and ready and I have spent literally (not even kidding) the last month staring at the last bits of the Nico-Nico dialogue trying to come up with anything that doesn't sound cringe. In the end, I cut considerable pieces of plot that were in the draft to finally get this done and over with.

* * *

It wasn't that Nico had never kissed anyone. In fact, he had, quite a lot—the months of his ill-fated relationship with Will, a handful of drunk kisses from Jason during a night out, a short-lived summer romance with a camper from Cabin Eleven—no, lack of experience was not the issue. No, the issue on the forefront of his mind was that the lips currently pressed against his own were, well, also his own.

He had frozen for a moment at first, brain short-circuiting, entirely unable to grasp the situation. Then, all but instinctively, he had found himself kissing back, both panic and adrenaline rising as a lot of puzzle pieces fell into place in his head. And then, at last, his thoughts had decided to allow for a minimum of common sense again.

He broke the kiss, pushing the other him off his chest, encountering no resistance. For once, the other's expression was impossible to read.

'Alright', he panted. 'You. Me. Explanations. Now.'

The second him shrugged and nonchalantly flopped down on Nico's bed, staring at the wall and avoiding Nico's eyes.

'Do you always kiss people you claim to hate?', Nico cautiously asked, leaning against a pillar opposite the other di Angelo. Really, he fleetingly thought, despite all they had in common, the other one might as well be a stranger.

'Just leave it.'

'Look—'

'I don't know, alright?' His counterpart's voice held barely contained anger. 'I don't know!'

Nico thought he could see a tear in his eyes.

'You're kind of like me', he said.

The other one stared at him in disbelief. 'Obviously?'

'No, I mean', he struggled to find the right words, 'all this, this anger and isolation and all… that's how I used to be. Before I let myself accept that this', he gestured at the cabin and camp in general, 'can be my home, if I want it to.'

He sighed. 'I wanted to—it's just, seeing all these things I used to be—I felt like maybe I could help you. To get better, you know?'

'What, and be like you?'

'Why not? I was lucky to have friends who made this place worth staying at.'

'I want that.'

The words were whispered more than spoken, and Nico wasn't sure whether he'd heard correctly.

'All that, acceptance, friends… I want that too.'

His voice sounded hoarse.

'Was it worth it? All this, your hideaway camp, being on our parents' leash, ready to do their bidding and fight their wars for them, was it worth it?'

'Yes', Nico answered. 'Yes, it was.'

'I should hate you.'

'You really shouldn't.'

The second him looked nothing if not conflicted. 'You're an enemy! You are everything I've fought against, for years. I shouldn't…'

'Shouldn't what?' Nico inquired. The other looked away.

'Why do you have to be like this, all noble and stuff? Why couldn't you just hate me back? Instead of this, this better version of myself?'

'Please. Let me help you.'

'You don't get it! I don't want to want this!'

'But you can have it', Nico insisted. 'You're so much like how I used to be, if I could change, I can help you change, too!'

'I thought I had what I wanted', the other mumbled. 'I had friends. A cause. People to have my back. And then your friends took that from me.'

'The Titans never cared about us. You know that.'

'And the Olympians do?' The mockery wasn't lost on Nico.

'Fair point.'

'What do I do?' the other one breathed.

'Just… don't run away. Stay.' Nico pleaded.

Eventually, after a long, antagonising wait, the second Nico nodded.

'Whatever.'

Nico left out a sigh of relief. After some hesitation, his counterpart got up and proceeded to take off his combat gear, arranging the sword belt, armour and straps in a pile on the floor before motioning to lie down.

'Whoa, hold on', Nico protested. 'You're not sleeping on the floor!'

'What, are you volunteering to?'

Nico swallowed.

'None of us has to.'

'What—you're kidding.'

'Ok, fine, I'll take the floor then!'

'You really don't have to.'

'Well, I'm not letting you take it!'

Apparently, even across other timelines, he was equally stubborn everywhere, Nico thought…

* * *

'For the last time: which one of you is which?'

Two Nicos silently stared back at the speaker.

They had been found out in the morning, and after a brief struggle, had been brought before Chiron and the cabin heads. So far, both of them had refused to identify which one of them was which.

'This isn't helping', one of the counsellors decided.

'Well, what are you suggesting?' Athena's Annabeth Chase asked.

'One of them is an enemy. The other one is evidently collaborating with the enemy. I'm just saying, if we can't find out who is our di Angelo…'

'He is', one of the Nicos spoke up, motioning towards the other one. 'I'm the one you're looking for.'

'He's lying', the second Nico protested. '_I'm_ the one you're looking for.'

Murmurs of anger filled the room before Chiron called everyone to order.

'Look, both of you would make this matter much easier for all of us if you could just cooperate. I'm sure we can find a solution for this.'

One Nico shrugged. 'Fine. I'm the real me.'

'Yup', the other agreed. 'He's the real me.'

Annabeth exchanged a look with the centaur.

'And by "real", you mean…?'

'Not telling.'

'What he says.'

The rest of the campers were visibly running out of patience, insults and threats being thrown the di Angelos' way, swords being drawn here and there. Before the situation could escalate, however, Annabeth let out a loud whistle, effectively shutting up the group.

'Clarisse, take them to the basement', Chiron ordered. 'The rest of you, out. Annabeth, with me, if you would?'

* * *

The demigods who had constructed the Big House had not accounted for need of a prison. Nevertheless, the basement had served as such before, most recently during the Titan War. Right now, it was the place where the di Angelos were being held.

'I'm sorry', one of them eventually offered. 'I didn't mean for this to happen.'

'Me neither.'

'No, really, I didn't mean to cause you trouble.'

'Shut up.'

Again, a few minutes passed in silence. One of them had slid down the wall and was sitting on the floor, the other one restlessly paced back and forth, measuring the room with his steps, occasionally bumping into a box of strawberries or a supply cabinet in the dark.

'Can I ask you something?'

The Nico in question shot a sceptical look at his counterpart before nodding.

'It's just something you said, when, y'know.' He coughed and straightened his back. 'Luke, the way you talk about him, were you two ever…?'

'No.'

'Oh.'

'What about you?'

'Things didn't happen that way here.'

Awkwardly avoiding each other's gaze, both of them stared at different parts of the wall again, the silence only interrupted by the occasional sound of one of them shifting on the floor, hoping for a slightly less uncomfortable way to sit. After a while, the sunlight started to creep through one of the windows on the far side of the room, indicating they had been on their own for a while now.

One of them stood up and sat down next to the other, who briefly looked up before returning his attention to a spot on the floor again.

'We kissed', one stated in a matter-of-fact voice.

'Uh-huh.'

'Would you… I mean, it wasn't really…'

The Nico next to him raised his eyebrows.

'Can I kiss you again?' the first one finally managed to say.

The second him seemed to contemplate it for a moment.

'I suppose.'

Slowly closing the gap between them, their lips connected, the awkward kiss quickly turning into a deeper one as hands cupped a face and other hands gripped a t-shirt. Both of them missed the sound of the door being unlocked.

'Chiron sends me to get you, Mr D is back and BY THE GODS WHAT ARE YOU DOING?'

Both pulled back at the sound of Lou Ellen's voice, hastily jumping to their feet. The demigoddess was giggling at the sight of their flushed faces.

'You were saying?' one of the two di Angelos grunted, embarrassed.

After sobering up, Lou led them up the stairs and into the room where Chiron's office was located. Upon opening the door, the group were greeted by the sight of the god Dionysus lazing in an office chair next to Chiron, who was sitting at the desk in his wheelchair form.

'Well, well, well. The two troublemakers.'

If sarcasm, arrogance or indifference ever were to become an Olympic, Mr D was guaranteed to win.

'Now, Chiron here has forbidden me from just vaporising both of you', there seemed to be actual disappointment in the god's voice, 'and I'm told just hurling one of you into another dimension isn't possible, some nonsen about the universe tearing apart, so I guess we're going to have to keep you around for now.'

'But be warned', and all of a sudden, the jest and arrogance was gone. 'If I catch either one of you just the slightest bit out of line, I will smite you. Both of you.'

Next to him, Chiron cleared his throat. 'That is, more or less, the condition of your, let's call it probation. Since both of you seem to insist that whichever one of you is the', he coughed, 'new Nico, so to speak, should remain in this world and unharmed, both of you will be responsible for each other.'

One of the Nicos shrugged. Both nodded. All three of them ignored Mr D's little huff as the god rolled his eyes and, with a snap of his fingers, vanished himself out of the room.

'I doubt you will be able to keep your identities secret for long', the centaur continued, 'but either way, I would advise you to stay out of trouble. Now, you don't have to answer, of course, but I would like to address the… perpetrator for a moment.'

Two blank faces stared back.

'War is a nasty affair, but please try to believe me when I say that things can change. I will not allow anyone to turn this camp into a battlefield. If you genuinely wish to stay, you shall have a place here, but I would ask you to thoroughly consider who and where you want to be.'

He heaved a sigh. 'That will be all.'

Outside the room, an impatient Lou Ellen waited for them. 'So, what did they say?' She frowned. 'Gods, I hate this. We need to get you two collars or something so we can tell you apart.'

One of the Nicos opened his mouth to protest, but the other one elbowed him in the ribs. 'Chiron says we have to take care of each other, or Mr D will have both our heads', he answered Lou's question instead.

The magician waggled her eyebrows. '"Take care of each other", huh?'

Both di Angelos rolled their eyes.

'You know what?', one of them remarked. 'Shut up.'

The distinct sound of making out could be heard as Lou Ellen fled the scene, doubling over with barely contained laughter.


	6. The Sorcerer's Soulmate

**A/N:** I could've kept this and posted it like a week later to pretend I had an update schedule, but seeing how short it is and how I wanted to have this story done a month ago, I'll put it online now. Finally getting this fic done and all that. I had this epilogue thing finished wayyyyy before I was done with the actual chapter.

* * *

'Who the fuck are you?'

Alabaster Torrington wasn't exactly used to having a sword at his throat, but he was used even less to seeing dead people walking around. Yet here he was, staring at the face of one Ethan Nakamura, who also happened to have his blade pointing at Alabaster's face, who had woken up in this camp off tents just a few moments ago.

His thoughts were racing. The last thing he remembered was the voice of his Lord Kronos, the magic doing its work, the portal opening, the excitement and the joy—and then incredible pain, when the filthy treacherous di Angelo attacked him. By all means, he should be dead, in fact, he was pretty sure he was dead, and this had to be the Underworld, right? But then why would Ethan threaten him?

'Are you mute or what?'

'E, I mean Ethan, I—', embarrassed, he began to stutter. 'Alabaster. You know me.'

'You sure as fuck aren't', the other man snarled. 'I know Alabaster Torrington and last time I saw him, like, two minutes ago, he wasn't you.' He gripped his sword tighter. 'Baster? Get over here for a sec, would you?'

And then Alabaster thought his head might explode because out of one of the tents stepped someone who looked an awful lot like him and when the puzzle finally clicked into place in his head, he let out an exasperated groan.

'Can't be well fuck.'

Time, magic, seriously, he had so had enough of that.

* * *

The waves of the Long Island Sound lapped away at the beach of Camp Half-Blood, the flow slowly reclaiming it, washing over the only two sets of footprint that disturbed the sand, leading from the camp towards where two figures were walking. Both of them were dressed similarly, mostly dark colours, with unruly, black hair, and both of them were Nico di Angelo.

If one was to take a closer look, one would have noticed slight differences, a scar slightly out of place, a strand of hair slightly longer, a posture slightly different. If one had also been close enough to hear them, one would have noticed that they were talking to each other, quietly, hushed.

'…just sleep in the Hades cabin. Seriously, it's as much my cabin as it's yours.'

'Hey, I never said it wasn't! In fact, I think I suggested it first.'

The two fell silent for a few moments before one of them spoke up again.

'You really think this is gonna work, eh?'

The other one shrugged. 'Yeah? I'm gonna show you around, maybe you can, I dunno, make friends or something… you know, settle in and stuff.'

The first one snorted. 'I can't remember me ever being as naive as you.'

The other one stopped. 'Hey, at least I'm trying!'

'Yeah. Right. Thanks, I guess.'

They picked up their pace again.

'Your friends don't trust me', the first one said. It was a statement, not a question.

'They're gonna learn to.' The other one shrugged again. 'Just gotta give them time. The longer you'll be here, the better they'll get to know you, the less reason they'll have to mistrust you.'

The first one seemed unconvinced. 'You have a lot of faith. Who's to say I won't just run away?'

'Me', the other simply answered. 'I am you, remember? I know a thing or two about running away.' He glanced at the sea. 'Plus, if you do, Mr D is going to vaporise me, and we both know I like me alive too much to let that happen to myself.'

'Yeah fuck you too', the first one grumbled, but it lacked the hostility. Again, they walked in silence for a minute before one of them spoke.

'So… us', he said, and if they had only just started to relax around each other, both of them tensed up again. 'Is there an us. And… you know, what is this us. We.' He cleared his throat and the other looked at him expectantly. 'You know what I mean.'

The other seemed to contemplate it before shrugging.

'Look I know that shrug. You're me, remember? I don't want to have this talk either, believe me.'

The other one cocked his head. 'We're us', he answered. 'I'm me.' He paused. 'And you, obviously.'

'You kissed me', one of them eventually said.

'So did you', the other retorted.

'You liked it.' An awkward glance. 'I liked it.'

'Yeah, me too. I guess.'

One of them raised an eyebrow. 'Are you asking me out?' After a moment of contemplation, he corrected himself, 'am I asking me out?'

The other one snorted. 'What, like a relationship?' He raised an eyebrow. 'Is that even a thing? A relationship. With yourself.'

The first one stopped walking, looking more confident. 'Out-of-body narcissism, more like it.'

* * *

Lou Ellen curiously examined the crystal ball on the desk. A circle of runes was drawn around it, much like the last one she'd drawn, although this one held far more protective signs and spells to contain magic. And right know, they were glowing, humming, oozing words and whispers that seeped through remaining cracks between times and realities.

The witch grinned as she contemplated the circumstances that had gained her the magic instrument. Kayla Knowles from Apollo had been all too willing to help her out with getting her hands on some prophecy equipment for her little experiment after being promised a rendezvous in the woods behind Bunker Nine and as she readied her spells, Lou wondered how the archer would react if she knew that Lou had been planning to ask her out on one anyway.

The crackling of energy around the sphere brought her thoughts back to the here and then and furrowing her brows, she squinted at the glass. Right now, it didn't show anything except for two blurry figures who were making out, and while that might have been interesting any other time, right now, she was trying to peek into worlds beyond her own reality…

* * *

'Stop it, you're getting sand under my shirt!'

'Oh shut up, I thought you're a big bad war hero, are you seriously complaining about sand under your clothes?'

Rustling of clothes. Someone sitting up. Voice colder.

'Whatever.'

Silence.

'Touchy subject. Sorry.'

'Nevermind.'

More clothes. Two people standing up.

'Uh… how about we go back to my—our cabin? Talk about something else? Or I could show you the climbing wall, or Arts & Crafts, or—'

Clothes. A surprised yelp. The unmistakeable sound of someone kissing.

'Cabin is fine.'

Footsteps. Two people walking away. Undetectable for the ear, two people holding hands.

* * *

**A/N:** Yay! Case closed, everyone be happy! Kinda writing this for myself since apparently nobody reads this (is it the selfcest pairing deterring people? I think it might be) anyway, I wanted to write this and write it I did.


End file.
